The Grass Isn't Greener on the Other Side
by Sweet Charis
Summary: DMHG During the final battle, something unexpected happened that changes the course of everything, causing Voldemort to win. Now, a broken Hermione finds herself in Azkaban when someone unexpected turns up. DARK FIC
1. Chapter 1: Technically Innocent

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned in the fic. They all belong to JK and her publishers so don't sue me.

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**The Grass Isn't Greener on the Other Side**

**Chapter 1: Technically Innocent**

_By: Sweet Charis _

Darkness engulfed a small, damp cell that enclosed the sole figure of Hermione Granger. She sat pressed up against a wall, her legs pulled up to her chest. Her head rested on her bend knees. A single strand of brown hair fell across her dirty face but she didn't feel the need to remove it.

It was ironic really. She was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had seen in the past decade, and yet here she was locked away in Azkaban. All because she had been part of the good side. Blood didn't even seem to matter any longer. Now, it was just a vicious hunt for power.

She still remembered the day that it had all happened. The day that had set her destiny. The beginning of the rest of her miserable life, one could say. She didn't know how long ago it had happened, days, weeks, months maybe. But she still remembered it as vividly as ever.

It had been the faithful day of the final battle. The day when Dumbledor's Army was to go against Voldemort's Death Eaters, good against evil, light against dark. That day, the wizard world was to be freed from the fear that they constantly hardboard within. However, it hadn't gone quite according to plan.

_Hermione crouched beside the unconscious figure of Bill Weasly, desperately trying to wake him up. He wasn't dead yet but who knew what would happened. Around her, the raging battle continued. However, it gradually died off, until everyone in the large stone chamber fell silent, glancing at a spot at the front of the room. _

_Hermione got up, so she could see what was happening, at the same time praying that Harry had slain Voldemort. However, the sight she saw surprised her deeply. There, at the front of the room, stood Harry next to Voldemort. His wand was out however it was lowered to his side. _

_"Join me Harry. Join me in my cause and I can give you everything you have ever wished for," said Voldemort, his cold voice eerily echoing through the deadly silence of the room, "If you join me Harry, I can give you more power than you have ever dreamed of. I can give more than you will ever receive from anyone else." _

_Harry, however, was silent. An unreadable expression crossed his slightly bloody face. He looked up, glancing across the room and catching Hermione's gaze for a split second, with an unnatural glint in his emerald eyes. A look that made Hermione's whole frame shudder. _

_"Fine," was the single word that Harry said, but it sent a riffle of shocked gasps across the room. Hermione couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. She tried to convince herself that this was just some sick twisted joke. Maybe it was a dream. It had to be a dream. Harry Potter didn't just agree to Voldemort's offer. It was all in her imagination..._

_However, it hadn't been just her imagination. It had been reality, and it would continue to be the reality that she would forever leave in..._

* * *

Amos Lynch, one of the jail keepers at the famous wizard prison, Azkaban, was a dumpy man, with the tendency to walk like a duck. As he made his usual rounds for the day through Block C, he glanced at the many unfortunate witches and wizards that resided there. Block C was formally known to incarcerate those who committed the crime of treason against the Ministry of Magic. However, it had become the Block that now housed those who had fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who was now considered the unofficial government.

Amos himself hadn't been on either side, so now he was lucky enough to still possess his job and not be in any immediate danger from the Dark Lord's supporters. At fist, he had regretted not believing Dumbledor when he announced that the Dark Lord had returned, but now, he apprehended that it was in his own unsurpassed interest. After all, his whole life he had only cared about himself, it wasn't like he had suddenly developed a conscience. If he had joined Dumbledor's Army, then he would probable be in the same position of the many wizards and witches that he was busy feeling sorry for at that moment.

He was glad however, that before the Dark Lord rose to power again, the ministry had gotten rid of the Dementors from certain blocks, which they believed, didn't house exceptionally dangerous criminals. He, for one, was quite happy for this rather rash decision. Those 'things' gave him the creeps. Plus, the prisoners that were now kept in Block C didn't have to deal with Dementors. After all, they were all technically innocent, and only guilty for expressing what they believed to be in their rights. But that didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered any longer, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back in power and stronger than before.

Amos walked through one final hallway filled with cells, only glancing for a split second at one of the occupants, a young girl who couldn't have been older than twenty. She sat propped up against one of the walls, with her face hidden by a bush of messy chestnut hair. Amos remembered her. Every time he passed by her cell, she was in that precise position. She never seemed to budge from there. She barely ate or drank any of the nourishment brought to her daily yet still managed to continue living, even though now, she had reached a shockingly unhealthy weight compared to where she was at when they had first brought her there.

Amos shook his head, slowly, pitying the girl. She was too youthful for this. Didn't deserve such a fate. The even worst thing that made him feel guilty beyond all imagination was the fact that she would soon be put to the Dementor's kiss, along with most of the others kept in Block C. Unless of course, someone was able to prove her 'innocence' or any other such unlikely thing.

Amos took one last look at the girl before walking out of the hall and closing the barred door behind him. He walked into his office, which was a rather small room that consisted of a worn out wooden desk, a scruffy chair, a cupboard and an ancient looking bookshelf. Amos settled himself on the chair propping his legs on the desk and sighing. He closed his eyes, ready for his ritualistic afternoon nap, however, he was oh-so rudely disturbed by the door to his office being opened and then slammed shut.

Amos opened his eyes, casting them furiously upon the intruder, but only met the icy glare of none other than Draco Malfoy. He clumsily stumbled off the chair, almost knocking it over in the process.

"M-my lord! It is positively magnificent to see you again!" he stammered, "To what do I owe the satisfaction of your visit?"

"Cut the formalities Lynch! I'm here for a reason and I don't plan to waste more than the necessary time needed in this hellhole," snapped the young Malfoy, in the same fashion as his father would have.

"Yes, of course my lord. What is it that I can do for you?" asked Amos apprehensively.

"I need someone to work in my…service, you could say," he said, feeling it was unnecessary for any further enlightenment.

"A servant m'lord?"

"Yes Lynch, do I need to spell it out for you!" he snapped.

"N-no, no of course not. Right this way, m'lord," said Amos, leading Malfoy through the entry that he had just walked through a few minutes prior to the unexpected visit. They entered the dark hallway that had a row of cell entrances lined up on either side.

"This lot is up for the Dementor's kiss is a week's time," said Amos matter-of-factly, "Now then. What exactly are you looking for? Someone youthful maybe?"

"It doesn't matter!" snapped young Malfoy in annoyance; "They can have two bloody heads for all I care! All I need is someone who can do what they're told to. Those bloody house elves are good for nothing!"

"Yes, yes of course. I think I've got just the candidate." said Amos, his mind flickering back to the frail girl that he had seen earlier. He couldn't say that Draco Malfoy was one of his favorite people, however, he believed anything was better than the fate that would await her.

"Very well…" was Malfoy's only rejoinder.

"Up," said Amos once he reached the cell in question. He reached inside his dilapidated robes, taking out his wand. He pointed it at the door and muttered a few choice words, causing the door to magically unlock.

"C'mon girlie, up I said." repeated Amos before yanking her to her feet. She almost lost her balance and fell over. However, with a shaky hand she steadied herself against the wall. When she finally looked up, her amber eyes gazed at Amos for a moment before flickering to the tall figure of the man standing behind him. Her eyes widened as a look of utter shock crossed her dirty face.

"M-M-Malfoy!" asked the girl in a shaky voice, not daring to trust her own eyes.

"Don't you dare address his lordship like that you filthy, lil'…"

"Are you quite done Lynch? I don't have all day!" said Malfoy, still perfectly calm, while unperturbedly regarding Hermione Granger with his icy gray eyes. On the inside, however, he was as shocked at seeing her as she had been at seeing him. He had never expected to see one of Potter's best friends locked away in Azkaban without him caring but apparently Potter really had changed.

It was too bad, because now Draco wouldn't feel the same satisfaction of possessing one of Harry Potter's former best friends, if he himself didn't care. But still, being the new 'owner' of Hermione Granger would definitely have its up's. After all, back in Hogwarts she had been the only one to achieve higher marks than he, leading to long lectures that he would receive from his father about the humiliation of having a mudblood beat him. Now, he was the one with the upper hand and making her life despondent would be quite pleasurable. He only hoped that she had more common sense than those dense house elves.

Hermione, on the other hand, was still quite shocked at the odd turn of events. If this were to have happened to her five months ago, she would have been deeply embarrassed, however, now nothing seemed to really matter, especially not the way Draco Malfoy perceived her.

"Here we are," said Lynch when they once again arrived in his office. He walked over to the cabinet and opened it, rummaging through the contents until he finally found what he was looking for, "Here you go m'lord. I don't know if her wand will be of any use to you but our procedure is to give it to the new owner.

Owner? What did that mean. Hermione wasn't quite sure what was happening but she had a slight suspicion of what it may be and it did not look good. She most certainly did not want to be Malfoy's property but there didn't seem to be anything that she could do at the moment. She would figure it all out later. For now, however, she decided to just be quiet since it would be in her own interest. Pretending to co-operate was her only option so far.

"Oh yes, and before I forget..." said Lynch extracting his wand out of his robes once again and pointing it at Hermione, "_Adstringo_!" A blue light flashed out of the tip of his wand, circling both Hermione and Draco and than vanishing.

"What in bloody hell's name was that?" asked Draco.

"Oh, well sir, whenever someone comes here in order to find a servant or otherwise, we are meant to bind the prisoner to their new master. So that they won't try to escape or any such thing," said Lynch, regarding Malfoy with a startled expression, as he seemed to get angrier and angrier.

"Oh I see. And tell me Lynch, did I give you permission to do any such thing?"

"Well no sir but I thought that..."

"You thought! I didn't know they paid you to think. You're meant to do what your bloody told!" erupted Malfoy in rage, "Now take that stupid spell of this instant. I don't particularly want to have a filthy mudblood bound to me!"

"Uh..w-w-well sir, it's impossible. The enchantment can't be taken off since if it were achievable, the slave might try to escape," replied Amos in a small voice.

"What!"

"The only way the spell is terminated is if either one of you is to die in which case the other is freed. However, m'lord, this doesn't mean that you are bound, per se. It only means that that the salve is to only do what you allow her to. For example if you were to say she can only speak the truth to you, she would not be able to do otherwise when asked a question." finished Amos, hoping that Malfoy had calmed down in the process. If not, this would undoubtedly cost him his position. He noticed that Malfoy had remained silent, regarding him with quite vehemence for a few instants.

"I suppose it would come in handy. Make sure this doesn't come to pass again, Lynch!" said Malfoy when he finally broke the silence; "I'll be on my way now. Come mudblood, or are you waiting for a special invitation?" he said sarcastically yanking Hermione out the door and into her new life.

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**Hey everyone! Ok this is the first chapter, tell me what you think! I know it's rather short but I'm trying to set everything up! Next will possible be longer, if there is a next that is… **

**SO please please please tell me whether you think that I should continue. **


	2. Chapter 2: Tomorow is another day

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned in the fic. They all belong to JK and her publishers so don't sue me.

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**The Grass Isn't Greener on the Other Side**

**Tomorow is another day**

_By: Sweet Charis_

Hermione Granger found herself staring in complete and utter amazement at the imposing structure that was Malfoy Manor, that stood against the gray sky with all it's superior might. For a moment, she forgot about her current situation as she continued to gaze at the beautiful gothic manor. She didn't even understand why it was called a manor, it was the size of a castle and more amazing than Buckingham itself.

"Close your mouth, Granger. It isn't very becoming of you," drawled the sarcastic voice of Draco Malfoy, "But than again, nothing is." He said, yanking her forward, and up the steps leading towards the front entrance. With a slight wave of his hand, the caved French doors opened, allowing the two to walk into the grand marble entrance hall of the manor. A few meters away, a grand staircase that branched into two sides faced them.

"Now than Granger, in case you haven't realized yet, I now own you," said Malfoy, turning his ice gaze upon her, "meaning of course, you are to do what I tell you to and nothing further. From now on you shall be my personal servant. As handy as house elves are, they really have no common sense. You are to manage everything the house elves do and also do other things such as clean, weed the garden, wash and any other such things that I order you too. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," was her only response. She was afraid to say anything that would anger him since she did not knew how he would take it. Plus it was not the smartest of things since he was a well-known Death Eater who would undoubtedly not hesitate in using any of the Unforgivables on her.

"Ata girl. Whoever said mudbloods were completely useless?" he said as he started walking up the stairs and than down a winding hall. She then had the time to gaze at him and finally take in his changes. He had further grown since Hogwarts, his frame towering over her. She suspected he was well over six feet. He no longer was the lanky adolescent she knew from Hogwarts. He had definitely gained some more muscle mass however he still had his elegant, lean appearance.

His aristocratic features were beautifully chiseled like you would expect those of a Roman statue. His platinum blonde hair was no longer jelled back, giving him a rather rebellious look and his skin was perfection. The only featured that had stayed exactly the same were his cold, penetrating gray eyes, that seemed to look right in your soul when he looked at you.

Hermione snapped out of her analysis of him when he stopped in front of a door at the end of one of the hallways, "This will be your room. There aren't any rooms to suite someone as low as you, but I supposed this will do. It's the barest room in the house even though it's far too good for your likes. Too bad the dungeon is under construction still," he said.

Hermione walked inside the room, trying to ignore the sting of his cruel words and not sure whether he had said his later remark as a joke or not. The room was of a fair size, with French Regence style furnishing that she suspected was all real. A warm glow was cast upon the cream colored walls by a simple chandelier that hung from the ceiling. A large canopy bed was the main focus point of the room. Rich burgundy colored, velvet draperies hung from the bed, accentuating the crisp, white cotton sheets that were neatly placed on the bed. Next to the bed sat a low night table. To Hermione's complete amazement, a muggle lamp was placed on the table.

'Hypocrites!' she thought guessing that the whole house had electricity. She continued to rapidly glance around the room, noting the large mahogany wardrobe that was placed against one wall. On the wall opposite the bed, there was a large window that allowed a striking sight of what was supposed to be the back yard, but was more comparable to a rather large park. Hermione noted that it was almost dark outside. Next to the window stood a comfortable looking armchair with a small round table placed in front of it.

Overall all, the room seemed to warm and rather inviting, especially with the large bed that seemed to almost mock her as she glanced at it. She didn't care at the moment that she was in the Malfoy Manor. All she wanted to do was crawl into the warm, plush bed and fall asleep so she might forget all her troubles. However, her little fantasy was shattered by Malfoy's icy voice, almost like a fragile mirror would be pierced by a sharp arrow.

"Now then, your work starts tomorrow at seven sharp. Dinky, one of the house elves will come and show you around and tell you what you are to do. I expect everything to be immaculate before I come home because I don't predominantly desire to set my gaze upon your filthy self," he said, about to leave the room, "Oh, and do take those rags off, they're positively filthy!"

"Oh I'm so sorry, _my lord_!" she spat, finally finding her voice, "But in case you haven't noticed, I forgot to bring my wardrobe along. Do forgive me."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, you filthy mudblood bitch!" he said grabbing hold of her arm with such force that she couldn't suppress a whimper, "Yes that's right. You should be grateful. If it weren't for me, you'd be soulless in a week's time. Oh, or didn't you know what they do with your kind. Well let me clarify matters for you, they put you to the Dementor's kiss, so next time you decide to make any smug remarks, remember that I saved you from a fate worst than death."

"Anything, even death is better than being your possession, Malfoy!" she spat back in vehemence but was soon silenced when he slapped her, causing her to fall down to the floor.

"It's 'master' to you!" he said as he roughly grabbed her and pulled her up so she could meet his icy glare, "Do you understand, you stupid mudblood?"

"Y-yes," she whispered, "I u-understand …m-master." With a smirk of satisfaction, he let go of her and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him, without a second glance.

* * *

Hermione slowly slid to the floor, finally letting the tears that she had kept in for so long fall. She didn't want to cry in front of him. No, she wouldn't show him any weakness. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But now, as she sat on the Turkish rug with her back pressed against the bottom of the bed, it felt like the tears would never stop.

She had always been optimistic. Never optimistic enough to be considered idealistic, however she was a person who generally looked at the up side of things. Yet, now there was no up side. The current circumstances were as bad as it could get. It was safe to say that things couldn't get any worse without jinxing it.

One of her best friends was now in league with He Who Must Not Be Named, the right hand of God or more like Satan, while the other could be dead for all she knew. They were no longer the Golden Trio. Her whole world had been shattered in the blink of an eye. The whole existence as she knew it had changed just like that. And now, she was alone in the world. Her parents could not help her, no one could. She was thankful however, that she had been able to keep them safe from what was happening in England before it had gotten so out of hand.

After Hogwarts, she had gone on to study at the esteemed Merlin Academy for complex witchcraft and wizardry. She had majored in Potions, Charms and Herbology with a minor in Ancient Runes and the study of ancient witchcraft. After graduating, she had gone on to working for the Ministry in the Experimental Charms and Potions Department.

Before everything had taken such a horrible turn, Hermione had made a name for herself after creating a treatment for those who suffered the after affects of the Crucio curse. It was no cure but it was a huge step in the research towards a cure.

She had received a considerable amount of money from her finding and was able to live a comfortable life. However, she had taken the necessary precautions needed to ensure that her parents would be safe from the danger that would unquestionably come to be.

Her parents had both been dentists who owned their own practice but after they retired she had bought them a vacation house in South Carolina. They had unenthusiastically agreed to stay there till the danger in the UK would pass, even though they hadn't been too happy about moving to the United States.

But now, she was afraid she'd never be able to ever see them again. Hermione knew she had to contact them somehow but she would plan that out later. Now she was too tired to think appropriately, all she wanted to do was rest. She would think about it all tomorrow. She would come up with a way of escaping and maybe even leaving the country, but for now she would just sleep. After all tomorrow was another day…

* * *

Draco stormed into his office, slamming the carved mahogany door behind him. The stupid mudblood has positively infuriated him, but no matter, he knew that he would eventually get his away. He always did. 

He sat down at the Louis XV style desk, taking a minute to just relax. He needed his anger to subside before he went on to work on more important matters. His eyes scanned the reasonably sized room, which had belonged to his father.

The room had a large window lined in rich burgundy draperies, which provided a magnificent view of the backyard. The walls were painted in a pale cream, with carvings running up the upper edge of the wall. A beautiful chandelier lamp that cast a pale light over everything illuminated the room.

The large mahogany desk was the main focus point of the room. The left wall was lined with bookcases packed with thick volumes on different subjects. On the right side of the room, there was a large fireplace that wasn't lit. Above it, a beautiful likeness of Narcissa Malfoy resided, smiling down at him with a somewhat mysterious air around her. In front of the fireplace, two wine-red leather seats were placed with a small coffee table placed between the two.

A knock on the window caused Draco to jump out of his thoughts. He got up and walked towards the window, opening it to allow a beautiful eagle owl to fly in. The owl gracefully flew around the room once, before perching itself on Draco's outstretched arm with a flutter of feathers. He gently stroked the bird's head before untying the piece of parchment from its leg and allowing the bird to fly to its cage to feed.

Draco ripped the seal and scanned the piece of parchment twice before taking out his want and burning it so that not a single shred was left. He sat back down at the desk, taking out a silvery gray quill and starting to write on a piece of parchment in an unusual looking script which only he and few others would be able to understand.

He had invented his own code many years before, that had come to be very useful from time to time, but lately he had used it more often than ever. When he finished writing the note and read it once over, he signed it _Anguis._ Draco then picked up a dark red candle and poured some of the thick wax onto the folded note. He than took his wand out again and muttered a few words, causing a seal to appear onto the cooling wax. The enchantment would cause anyone but the designated recipient to be blinded if they were to open the letter while the letter would self-combust.

He stood up, walking towards the owl's cage. He took it out and tied the piece of parchment to its leg as he walked towards the open window. He than whispered a few words to the owl before allowing it to fly off into the cool night. Within a matter of seconds, it became a single shape in the distance, illuminate by the silvery moon.

Draco walked towards a small side table, poring some cognac into a crystal glass and sipping it slowly. He was content for now. The first part of his plan had been complete. It wouldn't be long now till everything fell into place

He was tired of following his father's mudblood ruler. He however wasn't the only one. His father's generation was slowly starting to get old, some already being dead. Voldemort would soon have a smaller number of followers since the new generation didn't seem quite as loyal to the old traditions of pure blood. That didn't matter any longer. Power was what everyone was after and he, of course, was one of the main players.

He had been the one to come up with this plan, most of his old Slytherin schoolmates choosing to follow his lead. They knew that he was right, and that his way would eventually lead to victory and ultimate power so there was no reason to hang on to the old traditions. Especially not those implemented by Voldemort, who was a complete hypocrite. He was the one who was all for the purity of blood, however he himself was a half blood, therefore making himself one of the ones who should have been hunted by his own decree.

But now, Draco was the leader of a whole new vision. He was the future and soon, the old traditions would be replaced by the new. A new era would begin under his rule. An era that would never be forgotten and he would do everything in his power to achieve his dream. Even if it meant the death of many in the war that drew nearer each day. But this time, it would not be between good and evil, it would be between evil and evil, fighting for supreme power. The earth would become the huge battlefield for their clash to death. No one was going to escape the wrath of the two sides, muggle and wizard alike.

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_Anguis – means snake in Latin. Snake of the constellation Draco or the Serpent. I chose it since it seems to fit with Draco's own name but not quite giving him away since his name per se means Dragon._

**Tan tan tan...the plot thickens.**

**Hello! Well sorry about the horribly long wait but it's hell with all my exams and stuff! Well tell me what you think and thank you for the fab reviews! I'll answer them later and re-poast but right now i just wanted to poast this! Oh and by the way I will also write about Harry's thoughts upon all the happenings and such next chapter because i want the story to be deeper than boy meets girl and than they fall in love...K reviwe and do tell me what you think! Hope you enjoyed and tell me if there's anything i should change or maybe any ideas, constructive criticism is very appreciated! **

**Coors1977:** Thanks so much for your review! Well I'm super glad you enjoyed it, I definitely am going to elaborate more on the Harry turning evil so that it won't be a totally one sided fic you know…anywayz I hope you read more!

**Lady Moofin:** Lol don't worry I'll explain it all in the next chapter…well some of it at least. Can't give everything away just yet! Thanks for your review!

**Jadziadaxx:** I'm glad you thought it was realistic. That was actually the one thing I wasn't sure about cuz I'm not sure ho he would be like. Especially not an older version of him. I don't want to make him sound like a spoiled teen or anything you know…Anywayz thank you for your review.


	3. Chapter 3: The New Dark Lord

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned in the fic. They all belong to JK and her publishers so don't sue me.

**The Grass Isn't Greener on the Other Side**

**Chapter 3: The new dark lord**

_By: Sweet Charis _

Hermione's eyes shot open with a start. It took her a few seconds to adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. She noted the bright sun that shone through the window, a rare sight in Britain. She groaned, inwardly, realizing that the room faced east. Her mind, however, soon turned back to what disturbed her deep, dreamless slumber. She gazed to her side, and let out a surprised yelp when she met a set of large eyes.

After regaining her composure, the last evening's events resurfaced in her mind, realizing that the creature staring back at her was probable Dinky, the house elf.

"Good morning, miss," said the tiny creature in its squeaky voice, "I'm Dinky. Master Draco's orders are to show you around after which you are to immediately start your duties."

"Er …OK, thank you Dinky," said Hermione, not quite sure how to react to her current situation. She slowly got out of bead and stretched, before turning back to the house elf in anticipation of what awaited her.

"Master Draco also instructed to give you this, Miss," said Dinky handing Hermione a piece of black fabric that she soon identified as a robe.

"Thank you Dinky. I suppose I should change. I'll be out in a minute," said Hermione as the house elf left the room. She slowly started undressing herself, not daring to glance at her skinny figure as to avoided any further shock. It surprised her that Malfoy had actually had clothing brought to her. Maybe he did have a heart or maybe he just didn't want her appearing in a filthy robe in his prestigious manor.

Wouldn't that be disgraceful?

Once she was fully clothed, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror that the armoire provided. She guessed that the robe might have belonged to someone else since it definitely did not look brand-new even though it was well taken care of. She noted that it was a bit too large for her. The sleeves were too long so she had to roll them over and it also seemed to trail on the floor. She guessed that the robe had belonged to someone a bit taller than her current height of 5'6.

Before leaving the room, she took a strand of hair, and secured it around the rest of her bushy brown hair in an attempt at humanizing it yet failing miserably. She decided that it was a lost cause and unhurriedly walked out of the room, to find Dinky standing in the hallway, grinning at her.

"Right this way, Miss," said the house elf, directing Hermione to follow her.

'Let the bloodbath begin,' thought Hermione, not feeling a single speck of enthusiasm as to what was awaiting her.

- : - : - : - : - : - : - : - : - : - : - : - : -

In a different corner of England, Harry Potter, the boy who lived was sitting in a large, magnificent chair, contemplating the many events that had passed by so fast. He held a silver goblet in his hand, filled with a deep ruby substance, which was unquestionably wine.

The chamber in which he sat was large and dark, filled with creeping shadows of the unknown yet void of any other living being. There were no windows in the room, and the only thing lighting the room was a dim chandelier whose candles cast an eerie greenish light throughout most of the mysterious chamber.

The only furnishing within the room was an enormous elliptical table, made out of dark marble. Around the table, many chairs were neatly placed, each belonging to a certain person. However, the most elegant of all was a large chair that sat at one end of the table, made out of lavish black velvet. This chair was the one currently occupied by Harry.

As he sat there, in the eerie silence of what was probable a meeting chamber, Harry thought about everything that had taken place because of him. Everyone probable despised him by now.

He was a traitor, or so it was believed.

He sipped a bit of the wine, enjoying its rich, tart taste for a few instances. Wine was the only thing able to calm him, lately.

His only escape.

Only after a goblet of the rich substance, could he think properly, without the creeping sensation of despair crawling up his spine.

For a split second, he could almost hear Hermione's voice scolding him for his newfound devotion towards alcohol. A small smile crept upon his rather pale lips.

He missed her.

He'd often find himself wondering where she and Ron were. What they were doing. He still had the vivid image of her expression when he had accepted Voldemort's offer. When he had looked at her, he had felt a sharp pang of pain go through him. Her expression had hurt him. But she had no way of knowing.

No one did.

They all thought that he, Harry Potter, had purposely switched sides due to his own hunger for power. However, it wasn't so.

One evening before the attack had taken place, Dumbledor had summoned Harry to Hogwarts wishing to discuss a matter of great importance with him.

_Warm light illuminated the old wizard's study, casting forthcoming shadows on the walls. Harry sat in a chair on the opposite side of Dumbledor, who sat at his desk, deep in thought. He seemed to be far away, with a rather melancholic look in his wrinkled face. _

_Harry found himself wondering why Dumbledor had called him there, at Hogwarts. As if reading his mind, the old wizard turned towards him, giving him a penetrating look. _

"_I have called you here, Harry, because we need to discuss a very serious matter," started Dumbledor, frowning slightly. _

"_Oh course. What is it, sir?" asked Harry, puzzled to what could be of such importance. _

"_You see, everyone expects us to win; they expect you to overpower Voldemort," said Dumbledor with a grave look upon his features, "However, I don't think anyone sat down to think what would happen if you don't defeat him." _

"_What do you mean, sir?" asked Harry, rather alarmed by Dumbledor's words. _

"_We have to be realistic, Harry. As much as I'd like to think …no, hope that we will defeat Voldemort, there is still the remaining chance that we shan't," said Dumbledor, continuing before Harry could say anything, "No one knows how powerful he has become. We can only guess." _

"_Yes, of course sir. But we're prepared! We've been preparing for three years now. There's no way he's that powerful!" _

"_Yes Harry, but we don't know that. And I don't want to be considered the pessimist but there is still the chance that he will overpower us, in which case something needs to be done to stop his rise after that." Said Dumbledor, _

"_What do you suggest, sir?" asked Harry, not quite understanding what Dumbledor was implying. The old wizard stopped for a second, being swallowed into deep thought before once again continuing. _

"_Harry, you know as well as I that there will soon be a motion from their side. A surprise attack maybe. I don't know. However, we are as prepared as we can be," said Dumbledor pausing for a second and surveying Harry, " When that time comes and they do attack or something along those lines happens we will fight back with all we have." _

"_Yes, of course, I know that." _

"_Voldemort is not stupid, Harry. He knows that his reign will soon be over and he will fancy a successor. That of course being you, if his plans go, as he wants them to." _

"_Me! Why though? I've been fighting him ever since my first year at Hogwarts." Said Harry, rather distressed by Dumbledor's assumption. _

"_True, and he wouldn't have ever dreamed as you being his replacement until the discovery of the prophecy," said Dumbledor pausing, to allow his words to sink in, "Harry, one day you shall be a very powerful wizard, maybe more powerful than Voldemort himself. This, of course, being partially due to the power he unintentionally transferred to you when he first tried to eradicate you." _

"_You could say that the two of you have a certain bond. In a way, you are his only heir," said the headmaster, glancing at Harry to see his features twisted into an expression of horror, "And, I believe that Voldemort's plan is to persuade you into joining his cause, so that when his time does come, he could transfer all his knowledge and power to you, his new successor." _

"_I think I …understand the logic so far, but what does all of this have to do with us wining or losing?" asked a rater puzzled Harry. _

"_Think Harry, think! During what will be the final battle, Voldemort will undoubtedly make you this offer…" _

"_Which I will most certainly refuse!" exclaimed Harry in shock, interrupting Dumbledor. _

"_Or not. If we're losing Harry, you will have to accept." Said Dumbledor, with a glint in his cobalt blue eyes. _

"_Accept! Why in the world would I want to accept! It would mean giving up on our cause; on what we have worked so hard for!" said Harry, standing up from the chair. _

"_Not necessarily, Harry. You see, this will be your choice to make, however, when Voldemort makes you this offer, you will have to take a minute and think. If we are losing so far, I suggest you accept for two reasons. Firstly, it will put an end to the battle, even though this would mean that the dark side wins. However, it will also end the killing of the battler, at least for some time." _

"_Everyone who fought against Voldemort will probable be incarcerated in Azkaban, where they will be protected for the moment." He said, pushing his half moon spectacles up, before once again continuing, "The second reason will be that you are now on the inside. If you were to continue fighting and not win the battle, than there would be absolutely no one left to continue the resistance against Voldemort. However, if things become desperate, you can be on Voldemort's side, safe from him yet still able to strike a powerful blow against him and his Death Eaters." _

"_So you mean almost like a spy?" asked Harry, only now starting to see the logic behind Dumbledor's words. _

"_Precisely! There's always method to the madness" said Dumbledor, "And we will also have an upper hand over Voldemort, because you will know any new plans that he makes, therefore able to stop them in time." _

"_I understand, headmaster," said Harry. _

"_I pray that you will not have to come to such a decision, but if needed this will be the only way to finally put an end to Voldemort's reign of terror." said Dumbledor, a look of thought once again engulfing his features, living Harry to battle with the demons in his hectic mind. _

But now, as Harry sat in the large chair, he realized Dumbledor had been right and incredibly ingenious for thinking for an alternative in case things took a turn for the worst. For now, things were rather calm.

No one suspected him and as for Voldemort, he had taken a turn for the worst. He was now sick with some mysterious illness that so far no healer had been able to suggest a cause for. He was getting worse and worse, this eventually leading to what would be his death. If he did die, everything would be Harry's and he knew what he had to do.

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Darkness was slowly engulfing the mid spring sky as night leisurely came. Hermione sat on a bench in the back courtyard admiring the simple beauty that was nature. It had been a horribly long day. After Dinky had shown her around the parts of the manor that she needed to know, Hermione had had to start work, which had consisted of mostly cleaning. It had been a long and laborious job considering the size of the house and the fact that she no longer possessed her wand.

She found herself wondering why Malfoy didn't make all his house elves do this hard task however she mentally kicked herself immediately after the thought passed through her mind.

But still, why was he doing this.

"This isn't the time to feel sorry for yourself, Hermione!" she thought out loud, "great I'm talking to myself, what next?"

Maybe it was true though, what goes around comes around. After all, she hadn't made any endeavor to be even slightly civil towards him back in their days at Hogwarts. It was true, he had been a complete pig to her but maybe that's just because he was raised in that manner.

Everyone knew what a Death Eater and muggle hater the late Lucius Malfoy had been so there was no surprise that his son would grow up to be his equivalent. He had been sculpted in the faultless likeness of his father.

Cold.

Insensitive.

Those were the only two words that could clearly define Draco Malfoy in her mind. He always seemed to remind her of a statue. Never phased by anything that happened around it …just staring stonily ahead, until its end came.

She leisurely gazed up, once again admiring the flowers and trees surrounding her. She tried to relax and abandon all the worrying thoughts going through her head. She took a few deep breaths, trying to steady and calm the chaos in her head. Her memory of meditation slowly came back to her and soon, Hermione was in a state of utter serenity. If one were to look at her, they would have never guessed the horrible predicament in which she currently found herself.

After a few minutes of enjoying the silence, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She looked much more tranquil now, ready to face the difficult task that lay ahead. This of course being avoiding Malfoy at all cost and escaping.

She had formulated a rather vague plan in her mind, now that she had a fundamental idea of what the interior of the house was like. It basically consisted of her trying to get out of the house in the middle of the night when everyone was sleeping, and get as far away as was achievable. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have the vaguest idea of where exactly the manor was located. For all she knew, she could be in the middle of nowhere.

Hermione slowly straightened herself, deciding to go back inside in case Malfoy was to come home. She wasn't looking forward to another one of his temperamental fits and would definitely try to evade him. Unless, of course, his royal pain in the ass had some other demand to make.

Hermione stood for a few more seconds stretching, after which she walked down a neat cobble stone path towards what was supposed to be the back door that lead to the kitchen and house elf residences. She decided to go in search for some food.

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Hey guys….here's the chapter hope you like and tell me what needs changing!


	4. Chapter 4: Blood

So sorry it took forever to update, but life's kinda caught up with me…and the lack of ideas really didn't help, but I do promise I will be updating much more frequently, so please tell me your thoughts on the whole of the story.

I do want you all to note one thing. This is a DARK FIC and after reading the following chapter, do not expect the cliché fall in love and live happily ever after scenario to occur. It's rated M for a reason. The story is more about Draco how far he'll go to achieve his ideals, not how deeply he falls in love with Hermione. This story will not have a happy ending, at least I do not plan it to have one as of yet, but who knows what will happen. So please just keep that in mind before judging. Thanks and enjoy!

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He entered the giant chamber with a hint of uneasiness in his confident glide. Draco Malfoy was not a man that could easily be intimidated; this however, was the one thing that held that certain power over him.

The room was cavernous and felt unnecessarily cold and dark even though torches suspended in the air lined its walls. It was as if the being sitting in the center of the room had the power to suck all life and light from around him.

"You asked to see me, your eminence?" he said, bowing low in front of a grotesquely large and ornate throne.

"Yes Draco," hissed the occupant of the throne. The creature sitting possessed sharp, serpent like features. His skin was ghastly pale, deeply contrasting with ruby slit like eyes that glowed like the rage of hell. "Stand. There is a matter of great importance I wish to discuss with you."

Draco slowly looked up uncertainly, not sure what to expect.

"We have won the war Draco, however, all is not over. Potter was quite capable in destroying me, in parts," said Voldemort, referring to the now useless Horocruxes. Only the most elite members of the prestigious inner circle of Death Eaters possessed knowledge of these sacred objects, and their previous existence. "I have been rendered week Draco, far too week to continue."

"My Lord?" he heard himself saying, unsure as to what his master was saying. It was impossible for him to pass on; he was invincible.

"Alas, my child, my time will come soon, but I will not remain absent from this life for too long. There are methods, Draco, many different ways for one to continue living, even after death, this being precisely what I intend to do. For the time being, however, I have a task for you," continued the creature, his ruby eyes not once leaving the young man's face. "While I, your master, am gone, you, my most loyal servant are to rule in my place, in one way or another"

"What about Potter, my Lord?" asked Draco, unable to believe what he had just been assigned to do. To this question, however, the creature sitting before him began to laugh, a low mocking chuckle.

"Ah yes, the naïve Mr. Potter. You see Draco, far before the Final Battle, I began to feel what was happening to me. My powers drained away from my body. I felt it. I knew that if the Order of the Phoenix were to suspect such a weakness, they would inevitably destroy us. I manipulated the whole thing, and Potter was dim enough to fall right into my trap," said Voldemort, a twisted smile forming on the lipless slit that was his mouth. He continued, "He believed that we – that I – was far more powerful than reality allowed it. He believed that by joining our ranks, and virtually surrendering, he would spare the lives of those he cares for. Of course he was deeply mistaken."

"Genius!" whispered Draco Malfoy, disbelievingly.

"Yes, indeed it was. Now, young mister Potter is held completely within my power. I know his plan, though. He is waiting for me to trust him, and then, he plans to hit. He does not know of my current state, Draco, for if he did, he would undoubtedly use it to his advantage," he said.

"But master, if indeed what you say is horribly true, when you are to depart from within our ranks, surely Potter will try to stage a revolution." said Draco.

"But of course Draco, you always were smart. This is where you come in. I have come to the understanding that most recently you acquired a new servant, is that not so, my dear boy?" said Voldemort, practically leering forward.

"Indeed I have, your Lordship," replied Draco, confused towards the sudden change in direction of the conversation.

"And this new servant of yours is none other than the Mudblood, Hermione Granger, Potter's best friend. One of the few that still remains unharmed within his ranks, is that not so?"

"What you say is true, my Lord," replied Draco, even more puzzles as to what importance the Mudblood may hold.

"Mr. Potter does not know of this, however. He believes that she is dead. There will be new hope for him once he finds out she is still among us, however. You are to use this against him, Draco. When I die, I will pass on my title to Potter. I know that the combination of power, mixed with the fact that he no longer has anyone left in this world will push him over the edge of madness, Draco."

"What role does the Mudblood play in all of this, your eminence?" asked Draco, still puzzled.

"A very important one indeed. Once Potter discovers she has survived, he will be ecstatic with joy. However, by then she will be part of our ranks, a Death Eater. I will mark her myself, Draco. As for you, you are to marry her."

"Marry her?! But master, she is a Mudblood!" replied an outraged Draco.

"Yes my dear boy, but times are changing. The importance of blood is no longer viewed as crucial among my Death Eaters. This I have noticed. It is all about power, about money. If you are to marry the Mudblood, this can be used against Potter, to keep him in his seat. Keep him playing the role, which I bestow upon him," said Voledmort, rather cryptically. "Simply put, you are to use her against him. You are to threaten him with her life. He dares not refuse, because she is the only one that is still alive."

"I understand, my Lord. But would it not be easier to simply kill Potter." Asked the perplexed Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, indeed it would Draco, but this would mean naming a new heir. As you know, my Death Eaters are a rather competitive bunch. Currently, they understand that Potter is to rule over them if I am to indeed fade away. They have learned to accept this as their master's wish. They dare not defy me, nor the ancient prophecy. If Potter were to be killed after my death, there would undoubtedly be a revolt. A new war would arise between our own ranks, encompassing those fighting over the throne," he said, pausing to take a deep breath. "However, with Potter as ruler, you are free to rule form the shadows, as my true servant. This would guarantee you protection, my boy. As for the Mudblood, she would guarantee you an adequate bargaining tool, to keep Potter at bay."

"I understand, your eminence," replied Draco, beginning to fully grasp what would soon come to be.

"Secondly, as I said before, purity of blood is no longer viewed as necessary, merely because if it is to continue as I first intended, it would lead to the absolute extinction of our species," continued Voldemort.

"What do you mean, my Lord?" asked the once again puzzled young wizard.

"It's a matter of anatomy, Draco. The Purebloods have reached a point where they are all somehow, if even very distantly, related. This is not healthy, for it leads to weakening of magical ability, from generation to generation. I give your own family as an example. Why do you think you have no brothers or sisters, Draco?" he asked, not allowing an answer to be given before continuing.

"By marrying the Mudblood, and ensuing she provides you with an heir, you will possess a successor, far more powerful than the others. She is a very powerful witch, in her own right, as appalled, as I am to say. Her magical ability, along with yours, achieved through generations of purity will ensure your descendant is far more powerful then ever could be imagined. The start of a new generation!"

"I understand, my Lord. I shall not disappoint your lordship," replied Draco, somewhat beginning to embrace his fate.

"Listen to me carefully, boy. You are to announce your engagement to the Mudblood, next week, at a function where Potter is included. She is to be present there, yet make sure she has absolutely no contact with Potter. Your marriage is to soon follow, and you are to marry her on June 15th, no sooner, no later. On the night of your marriage, she will conceive. This however, will not be a union of love, if it is, you offspring shall be weak. Do you understand, Draco?"

"Yes master, perfectly."

"You are to inform no one of what I have told you. I will impart my blessing upon the marriage when you announce it publicly, and nothing further. You must not fail me Draco, you are my most trusted and loyal servant."

"I understand your Lordship. I promise upon the very grave of my parents that I shall not fail you."

"Very good, my servant. You are dismissed," was the last thing Voldemort uttered. Draco once more bowed deeply, before leaving the dark chamber, finally able to think freely, away from the slit like eyes of the beast.

And think was exactly what he needed to do right now. He could not really grasp his current situation. It was far form good, yet it had potential. He had long before stopped caring for Voldemort's ideals. Mudbloods or not, it was not of much importance to him, because he lived in a world that was based on money, on power, no longer on purity.

Nevertheless, he wasn't keen on marring one, nor having a child by one. He was young; he didn't particularly want nor need to be tied down with children. He wasn't stupid though, he understood Voldemort's plan, trying to keep him happy, yet loyal at the same time. He knew revolt was just around the corner, therefore he limited the power he gave Draco, by putting Potter in charge, who was a mere slave to his desires.

For now, Draco would keep low, and try to make sense of it all. His only problem was Voldemort's potential return. If he indeed died, and returned as a more powerful being, Draco would face ultimate punishment for any show of disobedience. For now, he would allow Potter to keep the throne, and begin to stir his fellow Death Eaters to follow his plan for the future.

But firstly, he had to find out how exactly Voldemort planned to return. If he could prevent this from happening, power would be his.


End file.
